Things Left Unsaid
by JoeMerl
Summary: In his third year, Percy has a talk with a friend. The two have more in common than he realizes. One-shot.


The third-year Gryffindor dorm was empty, except for the the small figure who was lying on Percy's bed. He was reading one of Percy's schoolbooks, which was dull work but at least helped to pass the time a little.

He was interrupted when Percy himself stormed into the room, threw himself onto his bed and pulled the curtains around, fuming. Percy's friend quickly tried to hide what he was doing, making a soft cry to let him know that he was there.

Percy looked over, lit his wand, and held it up to illuminate his friend. "Oh. I didn't see you there," he murmured, reaching out to pat his friend's back.

His friend didn't say anything, but gave Percy a look that he hoped expressed curious sympathy.

"Oliver is such a _prat,_ did you know that?" Even in the dim wandlight, Percy's friend could see him rolling his eyes. "I swear—we're supposed to be doing a group project, and he won't do any of the work, because oh, he has _practice!_ Thinks he can get away with anything if he just wins enough Quidditch games," he scoffed.

Oh, yeah, Percy's friend thought wryly. _That_ sounds familiar.

"And Charlie actually took his side!" Percy said with renewed anger. "Everybody took his side, even the other people in our group." He sighed, lying down now. "I wish people would take _my_ side for once."

Percy's friend actually gave a squeaking laugh. Believe me, Perce, I know _that_ feeling.

Percy's hands balled into fists, and he suddenly kicked the curtain angrily. "We can't fail this assignment just because _he_ wants to be lazy! I'm not good at Defense Against the Dark Arts! But it seems like the whole group is just expecting me to do all the work for everyone! It's not fair!"

What? his frirend thinks. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts mark are fine! Even in your worst classes, you're one of the top students. Don't beat yourself up so much.

Percy's friend thinks all that, but he doesn't say it.

Percy sighed, and now his voice cracked with emotion. "I just—sometimes I think the only reason anybody even talks to me is so I'll help them with their homework. Nobody seems to really like me for—you know, _me._ And Bill and Charlie...I can tell, they just think of me as a pest. Annoying, Pesty Percy." He turned onto his side, facing his friend. "I wish things went easily for me, like it does for them. You know?"

He suddenly let out a short, mirthless laugh. "What am I saying?" Percy shook his head. "Of course you don't."

Percy's friend looked up, and he actually felt somewhat indignant.

Oh, I know, Percy. We're a lot more alike than you think.

I know what it's like to be used. Not for grades, of course—I was never anywhere near as smart as you nare. People used _me_ for entertainment. They just kept me around to laugh at, when they weren't making me take the blame to keep themselves out of trouble.

I know what it's like to be around people who seem better than you, to really _believe_ that they're better than you. I know what it's like to have friends, and then slowly realize that none of them actually care about you at all. I know what it's like to keep trying, to keep pushing yourself, but still never manage to get anybody's respect.

Sometimes, Percy, I shake my head at how different we are. But at times like these? I'm boggled by how much we have in common.

You deserve better than them, Perce. We _both_ deserve better than the way people treat us.

Percy's friend thinks all of that, and at this moment he wants desperately to come out and say it right to his face. But he remains silent.

Percy smiled wanly, picking his friend up and moving him to his usual spot on the corner of the bed. "You're a bloody useless little rat, but at least you're a pretty good listener," he murmured.

Percy collected the book that his friend had been reading and put it on the nightstand along with his glasses. Then he laid back down, putting his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.

"Goodnight, Scabbers."

Goodnight, Perce, Peter thought, curling up to sleep beside his friend's ear.


End file.
